The Murder of Ivy Erin
by Vol lady
Summary: Early in his solo career as a defense attorney in Stockton, Jarrod represents a young woman with a bounty on her for extortion. It leads him into his first really complicated murder case. And it gives him a dizzying lesson on why murderers murder.
1. Chapter 1

The Murder of Ivy Erin

Chapter 1

Autumn 1872

Jarrod stood staring at the body with a sadness deeper than he thought he'd ever felt. He'd seen plenty of bodies before – he'd been the war, for heaven's sake – so he was not revolted by the sight. He was broken-hearted instead. This did not have to be. She was barely 20 years old, only a child, but somebody thought she had to stop living, and somebody made her stop living, with a bullet through her throat.

Sheriff Lyman came over beside him. "Jarrod, the undertaker's here. I think we better let her go."

Jarrod sighed. "She was my client. She wanted to meet me back here for some reason, instead of my office. She said she had something to tell me."

"Looks like somebody didn't want her to tell you whatever it was."

"She was only 20. Making her way alone since she was 13. She deserved better. I know, lots of girls only 20 years old die in the back alleys or men's hotel rooms and I can't begin to save even a small percentage of them. But I should have saved Ivy. I should have seen this coming."

"I don't know how. Stop blaming yourself, Jarrod. This isn't your fault. It's the fault of whoever killed her, and we'll find out who that is."

"You bet we will, Harry," Jarrod said and turned away.

Jarrod walked back out to the street and toward the livery where he'd left his horse almost 12 hours ago, but he wondered if he really wanted to put this behind him for now and go home. He thought maybe he'd stay in town, so he could stay focused on finding who did this to Ivy and why. Someone put a gun to her throat. Whoever it was was going to have a noose around his.

Jarrod decided to forget his horse and going home. He went to his office instead. It was dark, and he bumped into his secretary's desk as he made his way to his inner office. Once there, he lit a lamp by his desk. Ivy's file was still on the corner of the desk. He sat down and opened the file, and for the next few hours he read his notes very, very carefully. He read about how she had lost her parents when she was 13, to a flu epidemic. She'd been sent to an orphanage but ran away because they beat her for stealing some milk from the kitchen. She started working in saloons almost as soon as she ran away. Some man had told her she was cute enough to do that. She was, but not at 13, Jarrod thought. No child that age should be working in saloons.

In his mind's eye, he saw her lying dead in the alley. He kept reading. Somewhere, at some time, she might have told him something that held a clue to what had happened in that alley tonight. Jarrod was going to find it.

As he read, he thought about meeting her. Pretty girl, long brown hair and dark eyes. When she first came to him, in the saloon, she had said simply, "Mr. Barkley, I need a lawyer." She looked frightened.

 _He had looked at her and saw her desperation. "Of course. Do you want to talk now?"_

" _Not here," she had said. "I'll come to your office early tomorrow morning. Can I come at seven?"_

 _Jarrod had nodded. "I'll be there."_

And she had come, at seven on the dot. Jarrod's secretary was not in yet, so he let her in himself. They talked for half an hour before she grew nervous about being seen there and left. But half an hour was long enough for Jarrod to at least begin to understand her problem.

Jarrod read his notes and read the most important paragraph over several times as the night hours crept on. Ivy Erin said she was on the run from an extortion charge in Kansas, and she was afraid a bounty hunter had caught up to her. Jarrod wondered how a bounty on an extortion charge could be high enough to attract a bounty hunter and bring him all the way from Kansas. He sent a wire to the sheriff in Topeka and learned it wasn't only extortion she was charged with. Murder was in there, too.

Ivy was supposed to have murdered the man she was blackmailing, a businessman in Topeka. Jarrod never got the chance to learn more than that, or to ask her why she hadn't mentioned that to him. But now he thought about murder, about why she might have murdered the man after extorting from him. Did he abuse her in some way? Had he driven her to anger, or had she just done it in cold blood, to avoid punishment for the extortion somehow? People committed murder for various reasons. Why did she murder the businessman? Were some reasons she might have murdered him more excusable than others? Did she murder at all, or was she being blamed when she hadn't really committed a murder?

Ivy was dead in the alley now, and he'd have no answers for why she had murdered, if she had. What he was left with now was, who murdered her? The logical suspect was the bounty hunter. But a bounty hunter would never have just left her there. He'd have taken her to the sheriff for the bounty. So it was unlikely the bounty hunter had killed her, but if not him – then who, and why?

He sat back in his chair, thinking, rubbing his tired eyes and fighting an approaching headache. After a while he checked his watch and saw it was after midnight. No point in heading back to the ranch tonight. In the morning he'd have to talk to the doctor who would have checked Ivy's body for any evidence about her death that wasn't readily visible. Then he would have to arrange a funeral with the undertaker.

The next thing he knew someone was pounding at his outer door. He jumped awake. The room was full of light. With an uncomfortable moan, he realized he'd fallen asleep in his chair. He slowly sat up, moving joints and bones that did not want to move. The pounding at the door continued.

Jarrod got up, slowly unfolding his cramped body and yelling, "I'm coming!"

He made it to the door and opened it. His brother Nick came in, saying, "Where the hell have you been all night? You didn't come down this morning, we checked and you hadn't been home. Mother's worried sick."

"No, she's not," Jarrod said closing the door. "Plenty of times I've stayed at the office and not come home. You're the one who's worried. You're the biggest worrier in the whole family. What do you want?"

"Well, like you said, I'm the worrier," Nick said. "Why didn't you come home?"

"One of my clients was found dead last night in an alley," Jarrod said, rubbing his aching forehead. "I've been trying to figure out why, and I just fell asleep behind my desk."

"Oh," Nick said. "I'm sorry. Who was killed?"

"Ivy Erin," Jarrod said, leading the way into his inner office while checking his watch. It was just after six in the morning. With a groan, he sat down behind his desk. "I need to check with Dr. Merar and arrange for a burial as soon as the rest of the world wakes up. You can go on home. Tell everyone I'll be back later today."

"Slow down," Nick said. "You never mentioned any Ivy Erin."

"I know. I don't mention a lot of clients. No reason to."

Nick heaved a sigh. "Fair enough. How can I help you with this?"

"You can't," Jarrod said. "I have to review the file one more time and then track down some things before I even know where to begin to find out who did this to her."

"You need some sleep."

"Yeah, I do, but that will have to wait until tonight."

"Ivy Erin. That's a pretty name."

"She was a pretty girl, about 20. Never had one break in her entire life." Jarrod sighed and closed his eyes.

Jarrod had lost a client or two before in his career, but to Nick's knowledge this was the first who had been murdered. Nick could tell his brother was taking this one hard, but Jarrod didn't feel like talking about it right now. Maybe later, at home, when his professional brain let him go and he was able to let himself grieve.

Nick got up. "I'll head home and let them know you're still alive. We'll see you at dinner," he said as he went out the door.

"Yeah," Jarrod said after him, and then he began to look at Ivy Erin's file again, lying open in front of him where he'd left it when he fell asleep during the night.

XXXXXXX

A couple hours later, Jarrod stood looking at Ivy's body again, this time on a table in the undertaker's place of business. She was cleaned up now, the blood removed from her throat, but now you could see the awful damage that bullet did to her.

"I'm not gonna be able to reconstruct her throat very well," the undertaker said. "There's just too much damage. If you can find a dress with a high collar, I can disguise it a bit."

Jarrod shook his head. "There's only me, Jack. Maybe one or two of the girls where she worked might care, but there isn't gonna be an open casket viewing or any viewing at all. I'll see what kind of dress I can find for her and get it over here fast as I can."

"She's got no family?"

"No. None at all that I know of."

"So, I guess, no funeral, just the burial."

Jarrod nodded. "We'll have it soon as we can. Has Dr. Merar finished looking at her?"

"Yeah, you might want to go see him. He made his notes and released the body, so we can have the burial anytime."

Jarrod nodded. "I'll get back to you today on that. Put the bill together and I'll pay you this afternoon. Let's bury her tomorrow at the latest."

"No hurry on the bill, Jarrod. I know you're good for it."

Jarrod smiled a little. "Did you ever see her at the Gold Nugget, Jack?"

"No, never went in there," the undertaker said.

"That's where she first came to me saying she needed a lawyer."

"Knowing you, you never even brought up what she was going to pay you."

"I knew she couldn't do it. You seen a bounty hunter around town?"

"No, can't say I have."

"But nobody brought you a body over the last couple days."

"Only this one, and no bounty hunter brought it in."

Jarrod sighed and nodded. "All right. Get her ready. Make it a decent coffin, will you? A step up from the pine box."

"All right, Jarrod. I'll give you a good price, too."

"Thanks, Jack. I'll be over at Dr. Merar's."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

When Jarrod went into the doctor's office, he found Dr. Merar in the waiting area, dusting the furniture off. The doctor looked up at him. "Ah, good morning, Jarrod."

Jarrod said, "Good morning, Doctor."

"Come to talk about Ivy Erin, I suppose."

Jarrod nodded. "Did you find anything helpful when you examined her?"

Dr. Merar sat down on one of the chairs, so Jarrod sat, too. "There were no other marks on her body except for some old bruises on the left side of her face. They were just about healed. Nothing I haven't seen before on a saloon girl. I took some fibers from the bullet wound, but they were basically just little pieces of thread and completely blood soaked. They didn't come from her dress – it wasn't damaged at all, beyond bloodstains. We won't be able to clean the threads without destroying them. But they indicate that whoever shot her may have wrapped a cloth of some kind around the gun to muffle the sound."

"Any idea what kind of cloth?"

"Not really, but probably a scarf or something like that. If she was wearing a scarf, what I found would be consistent with a right-handed person coming up behind her, maybe grabbing her by the back of the scarf and then shoving the gun into her neck with the scarf around it when he shot her."

"Any idea where the scarf is? I didn't see it there with her."

"No idea at all. You might ask the sheriff, but my guess is that whoever shot her took it."

"A man carrying a scarf would be really conspicuous, unless he bundled it up somehow."

"True, or he dumped it fairly quickly, maybe after wiping the blood off his face. Shooting a woman at such close range would have put blood on his face, even if the scarf were around the gun."

"Or maybe he was a she," Jarrod said.

Jarrod looked off into the distant nowhere, thinking. Dr. Merar watched him, waiting for whatever he was going to say. But he wasn't saying anything.

"Is that what you're thinking, Jarrod?" Dr. Merar finally asked. "That a woman did this?"

Jarrod frowned. "I don't know. This one is – I don't know. I'm baffled. I don't know who did it and I don't know why. I haven't even got one real clue. Was she assaulted?"

"No," Dr. Merar said. "It looks like her killer just shot her and walked away."

"Why would someone do that?" Jarrod mused. "To a 20-year-old saloon girl who hasn't even been here a month. What could be the reason?"

"I know you, Jarrod. You're afraid there is no reason, that this was the work of some sick fiend who is just out to kill and he'll do it again."

Jarrod looked at the doctor. "I don't think I'm ready to say that just yet."

"But you're afraid of it."

Jarrod gave his frown to the floor. Yes, he was afraid of it. Some people killed just to kill. "Can you tell anything from the angle of the shot – maybe how tall the shooter was?"

"Close to her height, from the looks of it, and she was tall for a woman. Wearing heeled shoes, this woman would have been about five foot eight."

Jarrod remember she was tall. "Those bruises on her face – about how old do you think they were?"

"A couple weeks."

"Was she pregnant?"

"No."

Jarrod sighed and looked over at the doctor. "Can you think of anything I didn't ask about?"

Dr. Merar shook his head. "Not really."

Jarrod looked off into a slight crack in the wall and finally said, "Back east, they would call this a hit."

"A contract killing?" Dr. Merar asked. "Why would anyone hire someone to kill a saloon girl?"

Jarrod shook his head. "I don't have any answers on anything, Doctor. Just speculating by what this looks like. There are many kinds of murder and many reasons for it."

"The sheriff said he would check that alley again in the daylight. He's probably already been over there, or he's there now."

Jarrod nodded and stood up. "I've asked that the burial be today or tomorrow. I assume that's all right with you."

Dr. Merar stood up and nodded. "I've released the body. Anytime is fine."

"Thanks, Doctor," Jarrod said as he went out.

Once on the street he just stood there and looked for a while. The Gold Nugget was just down the street a couple blocks to the left. The alley where Ivy was killed was almost directly across the street from where he stood now. Jarrod wondered for a moment why Ivy had chosen that alley to meet him at. Why was she so reluctant to be seen in his office? Who was it she was afraid was watching her?

Jarrod remembered he needed to stop at the mercantile and get a dress for Ivy to be buried in, so he ran over there first. He picked out something suitable, put it on his tab, and had them deliver it to the undertaker right away. Then he went into the alley where Ivy had been killed. Sheriff Lyman was there, down around the back of the freight depot. He was just looking at the ground, then into some crates stacked there.

"Morning, Harry," Jarrod said.

The sheriff looked up. "Jarrod."

"Find anything?" Jarrod asked.

The sheriff shook his head, straightening from the crates he was looking into. "No. Doc says she might have been wearing a scarf when she was killed, but I haven't found one."

"That could be anywhere, I'm afraid. I've been talking to the doctor, too. I don't think this was an impulse killing. I think whoever shot Ivy had planned this out and aimed it specifically at her. I'm surprised he didn't just leave the scarf and the gun, but he didn't."

"Was probably planning on the darkness keeping people from noticing he had the scarf or the gun."

"And hiding any blood he got on himself. Or herself."

The sheriff looked surprised. "You think a woman might have done this?"

"Maybe," Jarrod said. "Doc thinks somebody about five eight. That's how tall Ivy was wearing heels. It could have been a woman. She could have carried the scarf to hide the gun, and no one would think it odd if a woman had a scarf."

"No. I'm gonna have to look all over this town for that scarf, aren't I?"

Jarrod smiled a little. "I'll help if you like. Why don't we start here and work toward the Gold Nugget?"

They started that way, eying a stack of crates and barrels in the alley. "What do you think this scarf is going to tell us?"

"I don't know," Jarrod said. "Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. We won't know until we find it, will we? We might keep an eye out for a gun, too."

"You're not planning on getting lucky enough to find these things, are you?"

"No," Jarrod said. "But if we don't look and they're there to be found – we're going to kick ourselves."

XXXXXXXX

Jarrod and the sheriff spent the better part of the day searching the alley, to no avail. Wherever the scarf and gun were, they weren't in that alley. It was after noon time before they gave up, standing at the farthest end of the alley and looking back toward where they started.

"I really hate not finding that scarf," Jarrod said.

"It's not here to be found, Jarrod," the sheriff said.

Jarrod shook her head. "Whoever shot her probably disposed of it somewhere else. They wouldn't be foolish enough to keep the scarf. The only reason to keep it is to plant it on somebody else – or to claim somebody else planted it on him."

"Or her."

"Or her." Jarrod sighed, thinking. "You hungry, Harry?"

"I could use a bite."

"It's on me."

They ate their lunch together at the Stockton House, talking about anything other than Ivy Erin, just to let their brains rest. Jarrod decided he needed to go home after they ate and get some rest – also ease whatever worrying his mother was doing, and Nick. Sheriff Lyman chuckled at the thought of Nick worrying.

"You'd be surprised," Jarrod said. "If everything in Nick's world isn't just so, alarms go off in his head and he has to track down the problem."

"Well, in Nick's defense, you do tend to run into trouble when you're off somewhere on your own," Sheriff Lyman said.

"Fair enough," Jarrod said, "but more often than not, I'm fine and Nick worries needlessly. But I'll go home and ease his mind. I'll be back in town tomorrow. You'll let me know if something comes up?"

"Sure. When will they bury Ivy Erin?"

"I'll go see the undertaker on my way out of town, arrange it for tomorrow afternoon. It'll be interesting to see who comes."

"I'll spread the word at the Gold Nugget. We might see somebody interesting from there at the burial."

"Maybe," Jarrod said, and then he yawned. "Wow, sorry, Harry."

"You'd best not lose any more sleep over this, Jarrod."

"It's hard not to," Jarrod said. "Things like this grate at the back of my mind. I really think Ivy was targeted specifically, and that just breaks my heart – but I also wonder, what if she wasn't?"

"What if this was a random killing by some sick s.o.b. and we have to worry about it happening again," the sheriff completed Jarrod's thought. "I've been worrying about that myself."

Jarrod nodded. "Either way, I've got it grating at the back of my mind, and it's gonna keep doing that until I get some answers. She was my client. She came to me for help, and I let her down."

"No, you didn't. You just didn't have time to do what she needed you to do."

Jarrod smiled a little. "I'll keep telling myself that. For now, I'm going home. Send word out if anything happens, Harry."

Jarrod left money for the food and a tip, then got up and walked wearily out the door. Sheriff Lyman watched him go, wishing he didn't so often get so wrapped up with his clients, but the man cared. How could you fault a man for caring?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Jarrod was home, reading in the library, at about four in the afternoon. He'd been alone in there, thinking and reading, thinking and reading, and was in thinking mode on the sofa with his feet up on the coffee table when his mother came in with coffee.

"Jarrod, why is it you boys always have your feet on the coffee tables around here?" Victoria asked as she pushed his feet off the table and put the tray of coffee onto it.

"Because our legs are too long for the furniture," Jarrod said simply. "That coffee smells good."

Jarrod reached for the pot, noticing there were two cups there. He poured two cups full as his mother sat beside him. "Thank you," Victoria said. "Have you had any brainstorms while you've been reading?"

"No," Jarrod said, sipping at his cup. "It would help if I had known Ivy better, but half an hour in my office just wasn't enough."

"Have you tried talking to some of her friends?"

"Not yet. Harry will tell them at the Gold Nugget that her burial is tomorrow. I'll see who shows up."

Victoria sat back on the sofa and sipped her coffee. She had noticed the lines in her son's face. They were from more than fatigue, and besides, she knew him very well. "These kinds of cases always got to you when you were a prosecutor – young women alone, killed. It must be worse when it's one of your own clients. You need to be careful, Jarrod. I don't mean just take care if the person who killed her comes after you. I mean take care you don't crucify yourself needlessly."

Jarrod set his cup down and rubbed his forehead. "This girl wasn't much older than Audra. But who was there to care about whether she lived or died? Doesn't seem like much of anyone cared."

"That doesn't mean you need to take the burden of caring onto yourself."

Jarrod gave her a smile. "I'll be careful, Mother, but I don't feel like I can let this go just yet. There are answers out there."

"Maybe you'll learn more at her services."

"I hope so. I feel like I failed her somehow, letting her go too easily when she came to my office."

"What did she come see you about?"

Jarrod sighed. The first thing a lawyer always thinks about when someone asks him that question is his oath to keep his client's confidences, but that promise ends when the client dies. Still, he always thought hard about saying too much. "She was wanted in Kansas and a bounty hunter was after her. Extortion charge, she said, but when I wired the authorities in Kansas, I discovered she was charged with murder as well. I never got the chance to talk to her more about it and find out what was really going on."

"And now you'll never know."

"And now I'll never know," Jarrod said, picked up his coffee again but stared into it a bit before he sipped again. "Nor do I know who the bounty hunter is," he continued.

"Do you think he killed her?"

"No, that's just it. A bounty hunter would have never left her body there in the alley if he had killed her. This was flat out murder. A bounty hunter would at least have made it look like he was shooting at her as she was trying to get away or something, and he'd have never let go of the body."

"Unless you were coming on them too fast, and the bounty hunter ran to avoid a murder charge."

Jarrod shook his head. "No. This just doesn't smell like a bounty hunter. This smells like a deliberate murder for some reason I just don't know yet."

"Are there really that many reasons for a deliberate murder?"

"Yes, there are. Revenge, jealousy, enjoyment even. Or money, or even just the mistake of killing the wrong person. There are many different kinds of murder. Many things that could cause a man to murder."

Victoria put her cup down and touched her son's hand. "I shouldn't have gotten you back into thinking about this, I'm sorry. Better ideas will come if you quit thinking about it."

Jarrod said, "I'll take a walk around the yard after dinner. I will have to go to town in the morning. I have another client coming in. Then I'll stay for the burial, and probably go to the Gold Nugget after that."

"Will you be home later or sleeping in your office again?" Victoria asked.

Jarrod chuckled. "Hard to say. If the client in the morning is complicated, or if I learn something worth learning at the Nugget, you may not see me tomorrow."

"Just remember to eat," Victoria said, picking up her coffee again. "You know how grouchy you get."

"Yes, Mother," Jarrod said with a smile.

XXXXXXXX

Jarrod's secretary let him know when he arrived in the morning that the client he was expecting had already stopped by and said he would be back in ten minutes, which was anytime now. No sooner had she gotten the words out than the man came in.

"Hello," Jarrod said to the stranger, holding out his hand. "I'm Jarrod Barkley."

"Tom McKee," the man said.

"Won't you come into my office? Would you like some coffee?"

"No, thank you," the man said and went into Jarrod's inner office.

Jarrod followed him, sizing him up as he took his gunbelt and hat off and hung them on the hat tree behind his desk. The man had sat down in front of the desk. He was an older man, rough around the edges. Jarrod had never met him before. "What is it I can do for you Mr. McKee?"

The man held his hat in his hands and said quietly, "I'm from Kansas. Been looking for my niece, but I heard yesterday when I got into town that she'd been murdered."

Jarrod perked up.

"I heard you found her," the man said. "I want to claim her body, but I'm told you already arranged for burial."

"Yes, assuming it's the same young woman," Jarrod said. "I didn't know she had any relatives. You say she's your niece?"

The man nodded. "I come to take her home to Kansas. I didn't know she was dead."

Jarrod suddenly felt an itch in the back of his mind. He looked hard at the man. He was older, but he could have been the bounty hunter. Jarrod thought that maybe he had his thinking all wrong. Maybe it really was the bounty hunter who killed her and ran. Maybe he was looking at Ivy's killer.

"Mr. McKee, her body is in the custody of the law now," Jarrod said. "Before it can be turned over to you, you'll have to prove you are her uncle, as you say. Shall we go over and talk to the sheriff?"

McKee quickly shook his head. "I got no way of proving anything. I can show you my identification, but that won't prove I'm her uncle. How can I prove that?"

"Well, let's go talk to the sheriff and figure that out."

McKee stood up. "No. I'm gonna go to the telegraph office and send a wire back to Topeka. I can send for proof that way, but in the meantime, I don't want you burying my niece."

"Are her parents still alive, Mr. McKee?" Jarrod asked.

McKee shook his head again. "No. She had no family at all. There ain't nobody but me."

"Are you aware she was wanted in Topeka for extortion and murder?"

"Yes, I know that."

"And you were taking her home to face that?"

"She didn't do anything. She'd have proved that."

Jarrod stood up. "Mr. McKee, are you really her uncle, or are you a bounty hunter who's been following her?"

McKee glared as he too stood up. "I'm her uncle, and I'll send for the proof."

"You do that," Jarrod said. "And you take it to the sheriff, and we'll see how we handle this then."

McKee abruptly turned and walked out. Jarrod quickly strapped on his gun and grabbed his hat. He went straight through his outer office, telling his secretary he was going to the undertaker's, and he hurried out into the street.

McKee had already disappeared into the morning crowd. Jarrod forgot about him for the time being and hurried to the undertaker's. When he got there, he found the undertaker standing near a conservative but nice coffin.

"Ah, Jarrod, good to see you," he said. "Is this coffin suitable?"

Jarrod nodded, but then said, "We're gonna have to hold off for a bit, Jack. Got a man in town claiming to be her uncle."

The undertaker looked unhappy. "Hold off for how long?"

"I don't know. Until we get this cleared up, but I don't know how long it's gonna take," Jarrod said.

"I'll have to embalm her or keep her cool."

"I know. Keep her cool. I'm hoping to get this cleared up in time for burial this afternoon, but I don't know if we can. Just don't go accepting anybody's claim for the body. If anybody comes for her, send them to the sheriff."

"All right," the undertaker said.

Jarrod hustled out of the undertaker's and down to the sheriff's office. He found the sheriff talking with a stranger, a man about Jarrod's age. "Oh, Jarrod, come in," the sheriff said. "This is Rafe Samson. Says he's Ivy Erin's brother."

Jarrod straightened. Now he was certain something very shady was going on around here. "Brother, huh?" Jarrod said.

Rafe Samson offered his hand and Jarrod took it.

"I come from Kansas to fetch her home, but I had no idea she was dead," Samson said.

Jarrod said, "Harry, I just spoke to a man in my office who claimed he was Ivy Erin's uncle and that Ivy had no other living relatives."

"Well, now," the sheriff said, looking at Samson. "How do you explain that, Samson?"

"I don't," the man said, and looked suspiciously nervous. "I don't know who this fella is, but we don't have no uncles."

"What's the man's name, Jarrod?" Sheriff Lyman asked.

"Tom McKee," Jarrod said. "Said he was going to wire back to Kansas for some proof he was Ivy's uncle."

The sheriff heaved a sigh and looked at Jarrod. They were thinking the same thing. Yesterday, they had no suspects in Ivy Erin's killing. Now they had two.

Jarrod said, "I've talked to the undertaker. He won't release Ivy's body to anyone, and we're delaying the burial until we straighten things out."

"Now, wait a minute," Samson said. "I'm her brother, and I'm gonna go claim her body."

"Not without a court order, you're not," the sheriff said. "We've got competing claims. It's gonna take a judge to sort it out."

"I'll draw the motions up and get them over to the court," Jarrod said. "If you're Ivy's brother, I suggest you come up with some identification and proof that you're her brother and do it fast. You're gonna have to convince a judge."

Samson huffed and went out the door. The sheriff just kept looking at Jarrod and finally said, "Ain't this a fine kettle of fish?"

"Harry," Jarrod said, "I'm getting the feeling that neither one of these characters is related to Ivy Erin at all."

"And that one of them killed her," Sheriff Lyman said.

Jarrod nodded. "And one of them – or maybe both of them – killed her."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Ivy Erin's burial did not take place as scheduled that afternoon. Instead, Jarrod drew up a motion to have any competing claims for Ivy's body – including his own – be filed by the end of the day and a hearing held tomorrow. He also drew up his own claim on her body, based on the fact that he was the one who found her and brought her to the attention of the law. He also moved that any bounty be awarded to him, and as he filed those papers with the court, he said to himself, _That ought to shake everybody up._ He made sure the sheriff would serve copies of the papers on McKee and Samson, and on anybody else who made a claim. Because Jarrod wasn't convinced there wouldn't be some others crawling out of the woodwork.

It made him furious. Here was a girl with no one to care for her in life, only in death. Ghouls.

It was slightly after noon when Jarrod brought copies of the papers he'd filed over to the sheriff. "I ought to have an order on the motion to file claims today within the next hour or so."

"Good," the sheriff said. "As soon as I get it, I'll see these things are served on our would be brother and uncle, assuming they're still in town. Did you happen to check on how much the bounty on her is?"

"It's hefty – twenty-five hundred dollars total on the extortion and the murder," Jarrod said. "The girl is worth more dead than alive."

"Poor kid," Sheriff Lyman said. "I hope we can get this cleared up quick."

"We won't be able to get what happened in Topeka cleared up very fast. I'll wire Pinkerton in on it, but it'll take some time, and I'd like to lay Ivy to rest tomorrow at the latest."

"I'm not sure we're gonna get the claims on her settled that fast."

"Well, I'm hoping Judge Farnham will set an emergency hearing tomorrow and award her body to me. I'll have her buried as quickly as possible."

Sheriff Lyman eyed him. "We've known each other a long time, Jarrod. I can see when you've got your teeth into something."

"Why does that worry you?"

"Because every time you do, it turns into nasty trouble for you and your family. I thought you might be done with cases like this when you left the prosecutor's office and defendants quit threatening you."

"My family shouldn't get involved in this one. I'll do what I can to keep them out. You quit worrying. You're starting to sound like Nick.""

"Then you watch out for yourself. Don't get so immersed in this you can't get out."

"I won't. Right now, though, I'm hungry. You feel like getting a sandwich or something at the Gold Nugget? It'll give us a chance to track down any friends Ivy had there."

"Good idea. No doubt the judge will come running to me to get involved in your hearing tomorrow and answer any questions he had about your motions. I might as well have some answers."

XXXXXXX

Half an hour or so later, Jarrod and Sheriff Lyman had finished their lunch at the Gold Nugget and went to the bar to pay for it. They were both somewhat well-known here, so when Jarrod said, "We need some information," the bartender was only mildly nervous.

Plus, he knew what Jarrod was asking about. "Ivy Elder," the bartender said.

Jarrod and the sheriff both looked surprised. "Elder? She told me he last name was Erin."

The bartender said, "Well. If she was working under a phony name, I wouldn't be surprised. She didn't work here very long. Came in on the stage and came straight here for a job. I gave her a room upstairs, but she didn't even have much with her, just some clothes."

Jarrod gave the bartender a knowing smile. "Did you go through the pockets of the clothes?"

The bartender shook his head. "No pockets. Just two other dresses, a carpetbag and one reticule, had less than five dollars in it. She just wasn't here long enough to accumulate anything. All that stuff is still upstairs."

"Emil, be straight with us on this," Sheriff Madden said.

"I am," the bartender said. "You think I'd risk getting in trouble with the law over a girl who was here maybe a week or two?"

"Who around here became friendly with her?" Jarrod asked.

"You might come back later when all the girls are here and ask them," the bartender said. "They'd know better than I would. What's going on, anyway? I heard you were gonna bury her this afternoon."

Jarrod shook his head. "Competing relatives showed up. They each want her body."

"Relatives?"

"A brother and an uncle."

The bartender laughed. "If she had any relatives, I'd be surprised. And if she did, she was running from them. You could see it in her eyes every time somebody came in the door. She was running from somebody."

Jarrod nodded. "I'm pretty sure of that, and I'm pretty sure this brother and uncle aren't anything of the sort. Listen, make sure nobody gives Ivy's belongings to anybody. Just hold onto them until I come for them, or somebody else with a court order does."

"What do these relatives look like?"

"Like everybody else," Jarrod said. "Uncle about 40. Brother – what would you say, Harry?"

"Maybe 30," the sheriff said.

"They come together?"

"We don't think so," the sheriff said.

"Come back this evening, Jarrod," the bartender said. "You can chat with the girls, and I'll let you know if I've found out anything else. Ivy was a sweet kid."

"If he only knew," the sheriff said quietly as he and Jarrod left.

XXXXXXX

Jarrod went back to his office and opened his file on Ivy Erin again. He read it over several times, all his notes, but nothing there was giving him any more information than he already had packed into his brain. He closed it and leaned back in his chair. He put his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling.

There was a knock on his door, and his secretary poked her head in. "Mr. Barkley?"

Jarrod sat up straight again. "Yes?"

"Pinkerton's in Topeka has wired back answering that wire you sent them about Ivy Erin. They said something very interesting."

"What's that?"

"They said according to the sheriff in Topeka – this was as of about two hours ago – Ivy Erin's body was delivered to him two weeks ago."

Jarrod nearly jumped out of his chair. "What?"

His secretary nodded. "They're not looking for her anymore. Apparently, whoever that girl was who was killed in the alley the other night, it wasn't the Ivy Erin who was wanted in Topeka."

Jarrod couldn't believe his ears, and for a moment, he couldn't close his mouth. What in the world was going on here? "Are they sure about this?"

His secretary nodded and brought him the wire. Jarrod read it himself and couldn't believe it. Ivy Erin's body was delivered to the sheriff in Topeka and the bounty paid. Why in the world hadn't the authorities in Topeka told him about this when he first wired about Ivy Erin? _Because I didn't ask_ , Jarrod thought, shaking his head. Authorities never liked answering questions they weren't asked.

"Is there any response?" his secretary asked.

Jarrod said, "Wire back and ask them to confirm this. Ask them to check with the sheriff in Topeka and make absolutely sure the woman he has was really Ivy Erin."

His secretary nodded and left his office.

Jarrod's head was spinning even more than it had been for the past two days. None of this was making any sense at all. If Ivy Erin was dead in Topeka this morning, who was the girl who was murdered in the alley the other night, and why in the world was she claiming to be Ivy Erin? Why would some girl who wasn't Ivy Erin come to him saying that she was, when Ivy Erin was wanted and had a big bounty on her head?

When Jarrod stopped feeling dizzy, he got up, put on his gun belt and hat and left his office. He saw his secretary had left to send the wire to Pinkerton's in Topeka, so he scribbled her a note saying he was going to the sheriff's office. He went straight out and was there in less than two minutes – and there in the sheriff's office was Rafe Samson.

"Just one of the men I want to see," Jarrod said, glaring at the man who claimed to be Ivy Erin's brother. "I want some straight answers, and I want them now."

The sheriff held back. He knew he could give Jarrod plenty of leeway, so he kept quiet, even though Samson looked at him with wide eyes. Seeing he wasn't going to get any help from the sheriff, Samson looked back at Jarrod. "Answers about what? I'm just here to claim my sister!"

"And your sister is Ivy Erin?" Jarrod asked.

"Yes!"

"Then why have I just gotten a wire from Topeka saying that Ivy Erin is dead back there and the bounty claimed? Who is that girl lying in our undertaker's? And who in the hell are you really?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

" _And your sister is Ivy Erin?" Jarrod asked._

" _Yes!"_

" _Then why have I just gotten a wire from Topeka saying that Ivy Erin is dead back there and the bounty claimed? Who is that girl lying in our undertaker's? And who in the hell are you really?"_

When he heard what Jarrod had to say, the sheriff moved toward the door, next to where Jarrod was standing. The man claiming to be Rafe Samson absolutely blubbered, looking confused and completely at a loss for a story.

"Answer the man's questions," the sheriff said.

Samson blubbered some more. "I'm Rafe Samson! I came to claim Ivy Erin's body!"

"But you're not her brother, are you?" Jarrod asked. "And she's not Ivy Erin."

"She is!" Samson said. "I swear! I don't know what you heard from Topeka, but you're wrong!"

The sheriff grabbed his keys to the cell block from his desk. "You're under arrest, Samson."

Now Samson was mad. "What for? I haven't done anything!"

"Fraud and lying to a peace officer, for starters," the sheriff and took Samson by the arm. "And we might end up with murder."

Samson tried to stay glued to the floor, even as the bigger sheriff tried to move him to the cell block. "I didn't kill anybody! You got no cause to arrest me!"

The sheriff moved him toward the cell block. "You're staying with me until we figure everything out and you answer for lying to me from the start, not to mention the murder of the girl here, whoever she is. You're gonna see a judge, and he'll decide what becomes of you."

Samson went to a cell in the cell block without any further complaint. The sheriff locked him up and came back out to the office, where Jarrod had turned and was looking out the window.

"Now what?" the sheriff asked.

Jarrod shook his head. "I wish I knew. We still have Tom McKee to find and figure out what he's doing here, and figure out who Jack has in his undertaker's office if she's not Ivy Erin, and who in the world killed her and why."

"I swear, Jarrod, this case has me so confused I'm not sure who _I_ am."

"You're not alone on that, but we'll straighten it out, one way or another. Or I'll give up my law practice and go punching cows."

XXXXX

The problem of Tom McKee was addressed fairly quickly, as the sheriff's deputy came back within a few minutes and said he'd just served McKee at the livery stable with the Judge's order on Jarrod's motions. Jarrod, the sheriff and the deputy immediately went running for the livery, and the sheriff was able to grab McKee's horse by the bridle before the man rode away.

"Hey! What's this about?! I told your deputy I wasn't gonna claim Ivy's body anymore if her brother was claiming it!" McKee yelled from the top of his horse.

"Get down!" the sheriff bellowed. "I still have a lot a questions for you!"

McKee climbed down. "What questions?"

Sheriff Lyman took the man by the arm, and his deputy walked along the other side. Jarrod got the livery man to take the horse back and followed the others to the jail, where the first thing the sheriff said when they all got inside was, "Who the hell are you really?"

"I'm Tom McKee, Ivy's uncle, and I came to get her and take her home, but I find out she's dead and her brother is here, so I'm on my way," McKee said.

"That's baloney," the sheriff said. "We've heard from Topeka that Ivy Erin is there, dead, and the bounty's claimed. You're not her uncle, and the man who claims to be her brother probably isn't either. And you said you were her only relative. Come on."

McKee, older than the others, suddenly sprouted even more wrinkles, but he still said, "I'm her uncle."

"Lock him up," the sheriff said to his deputy.

"Wait a minute!" McKee yelled. "What for? I haven't done anything!"

"You've lied to a peace officer," the sheriff said, "and the girl you came for has been murdered, so I'm holding you on suspicion of that murder. Lock him up."

The deputy took McKee back to the cell, McKee complaining all the way.

The sheriff looked at Jarrod, saying, "Well, at least we've corralled these two, but we still don't know if the girl we have here is the real Ivy Erin or some poor innocent who got caught in the crossfire."

Jarrod shook his head. "She told me she was Ivy Erin and wanted for extortion in Kansas. She had something she wanted to tell me in the alley the other night, something she never got the chance to say."

"Something that somebody killed her for."

Jarrod nodded. "Maybe it was for that. But was it one of the ones we have locked up who killed her, or is there somebody else out there?" He chewed on it for a moment, then he said. "I think first things first. I'm going to go talk to the judge, see if we can get the girl here buried today."

"What are you going to put on the tombstone?"

Jarrod choked on that a bit and said, "Nothing yet. The next order of business will be to find out who she really was. Before she's buried, I'm gonna get the photographer in to the undertaker's to get a photo taken."

"That's a plateful, Jarrod."

Jarrod checked his watch. It was just after three. "Yeah. I better go get the photographer first. The judge won't give me any grief for just doing that. Then I'll go see about getting a quick hearing on my motions – I'll come get you so you can tell the judge what Samson and McKee are saying about their claims – maybe you can get them to withdraw them before I get back. With any luck, we can get all that done in the next couple hours and we can start fresh in the morning."

"I want to keep these two as long as I can, so I'm gonna go talk to the prosecutor and see if I can get hearings later tomorrow on them," the sheriff said.

Jarrod nodded. "Sounds like a plan. I'll be in town all night at the Nugget. I'm gonna talk to the girls there and see if they can shed any light on this. I'll get the judge to let me go through her things, too."

"You won't be going home tonight, will you?"

Jarrod gave a shake of his head. "I need to get a longer sofa for my office. Hanging my legs over the end makes my feet go numb."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Judge Farnham shook his head when Jarrod was finished explaining why he should be allowed to have Ivy Erin buried, whoever she really was. The sheriff had answered the judge's questions for him, so the judge let him go, but he still wanted to hear more from Jarrod. Even as he told the long, confusing story, Jarrod wondered if the judge would just hold him over for a competency hearing because it sounded like he – Jarrod – had gone nuts.

But the Judge sighed and said, "All right, Mr. Barkley. I'm going to award custody of the body to you and give you rights to her personal property, with instructions to have her buried as soon as possible, but since the bounty's already been claimed in Kansas, I won't make any ruling granting it to you. I'll set a time for preliminary hearings on those two the sheriff has in jail for tomorrow. And I'm also instructing you to keep the court informed on how this whole thing proceeds."

"Your Honor," Jarrod said, "the two other claimants will be before you on the charges of lying to the sheriff, and perhaps other charges if things develop that way."

The judge picked up his gavel. "Whatever, Mr. Barkley. I'll be here and waiting anxiously." He pounded the gavel. "Court is dismissed." Then he stood up and said, off the record, "Mr. Barkley – my chambers, now."

Jarrod followed the judge into his chamber and Judge Farnham motioned him to a chair. Jarrod sat as the judge sat down behind his desk.

The judge leveled a gaze at him. "What do you really think is going on here, Jarrod?"

"Your honor, I don't have any idea," Jarrod said honestly. "I have never been so confused by a case in my life. She came to me early one morning, claimed to be Ivy Erin with a bounty on her head from Kansas for extortion. Next thing I know she asks to meet me in an alley at night, and when I get there, she's dead, shot in the throat. Then, two men show up separately claiming to be her brother and her uncle and they want the body, but then it turns out Ivy Erin was killed in Kansas weeks ago and this girl supposedly isn't her, and the brother and uncle probably aren't relatives of any kind. So here I am, with a client who probably wasn't who she said she was and relatives who probably aren't who they say they are and we still have an unexplained murder on our hands."

Judge Farnham kept shaking his head. "What are you going to do?"

"Sheriff Lyman and I are working on that, and the so-called brother and uncle will be before you tomorrow on charges stemming from their lies to the sheriff about who they are. I'm hoping to get some information this evening at the Gold Nugget, where she worked – maybe find a way to figure out who she really was and why in the world she'd claim to be somebody with a bounty on her head."

Judge Farnham looked straight at Jarrod. "You know, this would be funny except that it's not funny."

"That's the most sensible thing that can be said about this whole mess," Jarrod said.

"Come in late tomorrow and give me a progress report. I'm dying to see how this whole thing ends up making sense."

"You and me both, sir. In the meantime, I'm gonna go to the undertaker's and see if we can have the girl we have buried right away so at least her body doesn't become a pawn again."

"Good idea," Judge Farnham said.

XXXXXXX

Jarrod quickly saw the undertaker, who was happy to comply with the speed Jarrod requested, since he'd already had the grave dug and it was sitting open in the Presbyterian churchyard. Jarrod took a moment to look at Ivy – or whoever she was - one more time. He still found himself feeling bad for this girl. How does one girl's death get into such a tangled mess? Had her life been the same? Didn't anybody deserve better than this bundle of craziness?

"I'll figure it out," he said quietly to her. "In the meantime, I'll see you get some peace, if nothing else."

Jarrod left and headed to the Gold Nugget right away. He told Emil the burial was happening in only half an hour or so. Then he went to the sheriff's office and told him.

With that, Jarrod and the sheriff went to the churchyard and got there just as two of the girls from the Gold Nugget were arriving. The undertaker was already there with the coffin, along with two men to complete the burial, and the minister was coming out from the church, ready to conduct a service. In ten short minutes, the service was over and the undertaker's men were covering the coffin in the ground. Jarrod said his silent, final good-byes.

The two girls from the Nugget started to walk away, but Jarrod and the sheriff stopped them. "Ladies, do you mind if we have a word for a moment?" Jarrod asked.

The young women looked nervous, but they did not walk away. Jarrod actually recognized them now that they were removing their shawls from atop their heads. Sarah and Betty, as he recalled.

Jarrod smiled. "Please let me express my condolences on the loss of your friend."

"She wasn't really a friend," Betty said. "We just didn't want her to go to her grave alone."

"Did you know her very well at all?" Jarrod asked.

"No. She never said much about herself. Just said her name was Ivy Elder and that was about it."

"Have the things in her room been disturbed at all?"

The girls looked at each other and shrugged. "We haven't bothered them," Sarah said. "I don't know about anybody else."

"Did she say anything at all about where she came from, who her family might be?" the sheriff asked.

Sarah shook her head. "She wasn't around for long, a week or two at most. We never had the chance to talk about much."

"Is there anything she did say that might help us figure out who she was and where she came from?" Jarrod asked.

Betty looked surprised. "She was Ivy Elder from Kansas – wasn't she?"

"Apparently not," Jarrod said with a sigh. Then he offered a smile. "I'll be in the Nugget later this evening. If anything else occurs to you, would you let me know then? And ask Emil to make sure the door to her room stays locked. I need to have a look at her things."

"She didn't have much," Sarah said.

"Well, whatever she had."

"Sure," Betty said, and the women left.

Jarrod and the sheriff started back toward his office. It was going on six o'clock now. The sun was beginning to hang low.

"You know," the sheriff said. "A lot of murders are never solved."

"I know," Jarrod said. "I don't want this to be one of them."

"Any ideas where to go with it now?"

"No," Jarrod said. "Just – let me talk to the girls at the Nugget tonight without you there. Could be they might talk a bit more once they've had a few drinks and don't have to worry about the law overhearing them."

"You might be right."

XXXXXXX

Jarrod checked in at his office, finding only a note from his secretary – _Your brother Nick came by._ Jarrod tossed the note into his trashcan. He'd already told his mother he probably would not be home, so Nick could just go ahead and worry if he wanted to. Since there was nothing else that needed his immediate attention, he went straight to the Gold Nugget, planning on spending a lot of time there, and maybe losing a bit of money at the poker table, too.

He got some dinner there and started on a bottle of scotch he planned to spend the entire evening with. After he ate, Emil the bartender let him into Ivy Elder/Erin's room, but Jarrod didn't find a thing that was helpful. As Emil had said before, she only a couple dresses without pockets, an empty carpetbag and a reticule that once maybe held some money but didn't anymore. Jarrod bundled everything into the carpetbag and asked Emil to hold it behind the bar for him until he left for the evening. Then he went back downstairs.

The place wasn't very crowded at first, but as time wore on, more men came in. Jarrod recognized a few of the local businessmen and ranch hands who came in, but none of them were people he thought could help him with this Ivy Erin problem. He tried talking with each of the saloon girls who was working that night, but none of them had any more information than Sarah and Betty had.

After a couple hours of chatting with the girls, Jarrod found a poker game and sat down to play. He didn't think about Ivy Erin while he was playing. He was hoping that not thinking about her would clear his thoughts, plus he was hoping to make a little money. Then one of the men at the table – one of the hands from a neighboring ranch that Jarrod knew – said, "That girl who was murdered the other night worked here, didn't she? Jarrod, didn't I hear that was one of your cases?"

"You heard right on both counts," Jarrod said and he examined his cards and decided what to do with them. "Did you know the girl?"

The man said, "Not exactly. Talked to her once last week. Heck, she wasn't around for more than a week or two. Can't imagine how anybody got to know her well enough to kill her."

"Sometimes men kill women they don't know at all," Jarrod said, still mildly afraid this might be one of those cases. "Did she say anything that struck you as interesting in hindsight?"

"Not really," the man said. "Shame she was killed, though. She was a right pretty girl."

"That she was," Jarrod said.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Jarrod wandered back to his office at just past eleven, tired, a little bit drunk, thoroughly frustrated. He had broken about even at poker, but learned nothing that would be helpful in figuring out who the girl killed in the alley really was. He had gotten nowhere tonight, so he just picked up Ivy's carpetbag and came back to his office.

He lit a couple lamps in his office, loosened his tie and left it on his desk, then washed his face in the basin he had in the alcove in his private office. And that was all he did before he put the lamps out and stretched out on his sofa – as far as he could stretch out. He hated that his legs hung over the end. He tried every which way to get comfortable, but nothing was working. He wondered if he ought to get up and get a room at the hotel, but he decided he wanted to be here, in case something important came to him during the night.

So he didn't sleep. He hadn't had enough liquor in a short enough amount of time to really get passed out drunk or even pleasantly relaxed. His mind kept right on racing even as he closed his eyes. Who was that girl who was killed in the alley? There had to be an answer – what was it? What did it have to do with the two men in Harry Lyman's jail?

He finally started to doze, and his thoughts began to muddle pleasantly. And then it hit him, full in the face, so hard he wondered why he hadn't thought of it before.

Why was she shot in the throat? He couldn't remember another murder he'd ever heard of in which the victim was shot in the throat. Why wasn't this girl shot in the head? Put the gun at her temple and fire and it was a sure kill shot. Why was this girl, dead in the alley, shot in the throat?

Maybe it was strictly a matter of a height discrepancy, this girl versus her attacker, but no. Jarrod was suddenly certain it was not. There was a reason she was shot in the throat. He jumped up, lit a lamp, and scribbled himself a note that he left on his desk. Come morning, he would have to look more into that question, but how? He scribbled some more. _Wire Pinkerton in Topeka. How was girl there killed? Specifics - throat?_

He went back to his sofa, wondering if he'd have any more brainstorms, but this time he was asleep in only a few minutes.

XXXXXXX

When he woke up in the morning, Jarrod didn't remember having the big thought the night before or even writing himself a note, but his memory came awake when he saw the note on his desk. He read it and remembered, and he believed all over again that this was very important. He quickly washed and shaved, then got his clothing straightened out. After rifling through Ivy Erin's carpetbag and finding nothing but the dresses and empty reticule he'd put in there, he dashed off to the telegraph office.

After he wired his Pinkerton contact in Topeka, he hurried over to the sheriff's office. "Harry," he said even before he was completely through the door.

"Morning, Jarrod," Sheriff Lyman said. "I see you slept in your office again."

Jarrod took a look at his clothes and noticed they were still pretty rumpled, but he didn't really care. "What time is the hearing on the two you have in your jail?"

"Not until one this afternoon. Why?"

"That's not enough time," Jarrod said to himself, out loud.

"To do what?"

"Harry, have you ever heard of another murder committed by shooting the victim in the throat?"

"No. I haven't. Why?"

"That's what I started asking myself seriously last night. Why was Ivy or whoever she was shot in the throat?"

The sheriff shrugged. "I just figured a height difference between the shooter and the victim."

"Maybe, but maybe it was intentional."

Now the sheriff was really confused. "Why try to kill someone by intentionally shooting them in the throat?"

"That's what I thought, too," Jarrod said. "It doesn't make any sense. Maybe the killer was trying to aim better but got disturbed when he heard me coming. But what if that wasn't it?"

"If it was intentional, then why? I don't get it."

"I don't really get it either, but my gut is telling me there's something to get. I've wired Pinkerton in Topeka again. I want to know how exactly the Ivy Erin they have there was killed. If she was shot in the throat, too, then maybe we have something."

The sheriff shrugged again. "What? What do we have?"

"I don't know yet. Depends on what Pinkerton tells me. But if you have to cut those two loose, it might not make any difference. They'll leave town and that will be that."

Jarrod's mind was whirling. He stared at the floor, then shut his eyes tight, thinking.

"Jarrod, maybe you just need some sleep," Sheriff Lyman said.

Jarrod shook his head. "I don't think so. Don't ask me why, but I don't think so."

"Have you eaten this morning? You know how you get when you don't eat."

"Yes, Mother, I know how I get when I don't eat, but that's not what this is."

The sheriff shoved him toward the door. "Go eat anyway. It'll make me feel better."

"All right," Jarrod said. "I'll be back."

"I'm sure you will," the sheriff said and pushed him out the door.

Jarrod went to the café at the Stockton House and had several cups of coffee along with steak and eggs, but his mind would not let go of this idea he had. The problem was, so what if the girl in Topeka was shot in the throat? How would that help him identify the girl who had come to his office? How would that tie the two men in the jail to the murder here in Stockton?

He found himself seeing the Ivy Erin who had come to his office, even as he closed his eyes. Again, he thought about how unfair life had been to her, all the way up to the end of it, and now beyond. There was nothing but confusion left in the wake of her murder, confusion he might never be able to clear up. He might never be able to bring anyone to justice for destroying her in that alley. The thought angered him, no matter who she was, murderer or innocent.

He thought hard and asked himself – why do people murder other people? He'd had that bouncing around in the back of his head all along, but now he thought hard about it, tried to think about it in an organized way. Impulse – anger driven? Revenge? Robbery? Mistake? Enjoyment? Bounty? Dear God, there were so many reasons people killed other people that it was appalling. Which ones might apply to Ivy Erin's murder – or whoever she was if she wasn't Ivy Erin?

Jarrod's mind went somewhere else, to her name. Her real name. He might not even be able to put a real name on her grave, ever, unless he could make some sense of all of this and find somebody who would tell him the truth.

He stayed at the café for a long time, and half wondered if he ought to go back to his office and sleep a little more. He paid for his breakfast and left the café, heading for his office and a short nap. Before he got very far, he heard someone calling his name. He stopped and turned around. It was Harvey from the telegraph office.

"Got this in for you, Mr. Barkley, from Topeka," Harvey said.

That was fast, Jarrod thought, realizing it had only been four hours since he sent the wire. He looked at the message.

And there it was. The Ivy Erin in Topeka had been killed by a gunshot wound to the throat, but not just to the throat. The shot had gone upward through her head and taken her face almost entirely off. She was not recognizable. Identification was made by papers on her person.

Jarrod had stopped dead on the street. He didn't even know Harvey was still there until the man asked, "Any reply, Mr. Barkley?"

"No, not yet," Jarrod said. "Thanks, Harvey."

Harvey left. Jarrod still did not move. He just stood there and thought, and put things together, and remembered what the Ivy Erin here in Stockton had said. She was the one who was wanted in Topeka. Why would she have said that? Because it was true.

The Ivy Erin in Topeka was intentionally shot so that you could not tell who she was by looking at her. She was not really Ivy Erin. The girl here in Stockton, the one who had come to his office and then died in that alley – she was the real Ivy Erin.

Then he kept thinking. Who would have killed that girl in Topeka by mutilating her face? The real Ivy Erin, that's who, or a confederate who turned in her body for the bounty.

But then, who really killed the Ivy Erin here in Stockton, and why? Not a bounty hunter – he wouldn't have left her. One or both of the men in the jail. It had to be, but why? There had to be an answer to the why.

"Better get out of the street or you'll get run over!" Jarrod heard a friendly voice call.

Then he realized he was still in the way of traffic. He got himself together and got out of the street. And he knew what he had to do.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Jarrod hurried back to the telegraph office and wired Pinkerton to find the person who turned the Ivy Erin there in for the bounty, if possible. It was a long shot, Jarrod knew. He expected to be told that that whoever it was was long gone, but it was worth a try.

Jarrod went over to the jail then and found the sheriff there, getting ready for the court appearance at one.

"Harry, I've gotten more information from Topeka," Jarrod said as he came in the door.

"What information?" the sheriff asked.

"The woman turned in as Ivy Erin there _was_ shot in the throat, just as our Ivy Erin here, but the bullet was aimed upward through her throat and took her entire face off. She wasn't identifiable except through the identification papers she carried."

The sheriff understood the ramifications of what Jarrod was saying. "Somebody tried to do the same thing here."

"Except their aim was slightly off and I interrupted them getting a second shot."

The sheriff glanced toward the cell block. "Them?"

"Let's have another talk with them. Do they have lawyers?"

"No. Turned them down, at least until they have their hearing today."

"Let's go."

The sheriff grabbed the keys, and he and Jarrod went into the cell block. Samson and McKee were in their respective cells, McKee sitting down on his cot, Samson pacing. The sheriff closed the cell block door behind them. McKee got up.

Jarrod stood looking from one man to the other, and they looked back. The sheriff waited for Jarrod to do the talking.

Jarrod spoke slowly, deliberately. "The woman who was killed here told me her name was Ivy Erin, and that's who she was. But she was not kin to either one of you. There was a woman in Topeka who was killed and turned in for the reward on Ivy Erin. She was shot in the throat, like Ivy Erin here was. She couldn't be identified physically, so they identified her by the papers she carried. But she wasn't Ivy Erin. Someone killed her and turned her in to let the real Ivy Erin get away."

Jarrod walked closer toward the men, stared hard at one and then the other, then walked to the far end of the cell block and turned around.

"Here's what I'm betting," Jarrod continued. "That one of you, or both of you, is kin to the woman who was killed in Topeka, or a close friend, or somehow that woman mattered to you. You knew she wasn't Ivy Erin, but you couldn't get anybody there to believe you. So you tracked the real Ivy Erin, found out she was calling herself Ivy Elder now and you followed her here to Stockton. She somehow got wind of you and came to me for help. Confessed almost everything to me – at least told me her real name and was about to tell me more but somebody killed her by shooting her in the throat, the same way the young woman in Topeka was killed. But he didn't shoot her face off here, either because he didn't want to or he didn't get the chance to because I came into the alley and he had to run."

"What's your point, lawyer?" McKee asked.

Jarrod eyed him. "Just this. There was only one reason to kill the real Ivy Erin here in Stockton. The bounty was claimed, so that wasn't it. And to kill her in the same way that innocent in Topeka was killed – it points to revenge, to some sense of justice for someone that innocent was important to."

McKee kept staring at Jarrod, but his gaze moved very slightly away from Jarrod's eyes.

"Is it you, McKee?" Jarrod asked. "Are you kin to that innocent woman in Topeka that Ivy Erin either killed or had killed? Say it now, because if you go into that court in about an hour and don't say it, you won't be able to get away with saying it later. You will be held over here in jail for lying to the sheriff and on suspicion of murder, and we will pin you to the murder of Ivy Erin here. If you killed her to avenge the girl in Topeka, say it now and it will work for you. Don't say it, and it's lost to you for good."

McKee's gaze went to the floor then. Samson said, "Tom – "

Jarrod and the sheriff knew then that these two men in the jail were up to something for sure.

McKee held his hand up, still looking at the floor. "Rafe didn't have anything to do with this. He's my brother."

"Rafe Samson McKee," Samson admitted quietly.

"He was just following me out here, and when he got here he found out Ivy Erin was dead and he knew I killed her. I went to claim her body and after he did the same we ran into each other. I killed Ivy Erin, and I'd do it again."

"Who was that girl in Topeka?" Jarrod asked.

McKee finally looked at him again. "Her name was Amy McKee. Our dead brother's daughter. The light of my life. Beautiful and sweet and her only flaw was that she looked too much like Ivy Erin. That – miserable excuse for a girl decided she was gonna kill my Amy and have her pawned off as herself so she could get away."

"She had help."

McKee nodded. "She talked some boy into doing the killing and turning in the body. I don't know who the boy was or where he's gone. I saw him in the sheriff's office, through the window, claiming the reward. I tried to get to him and I'd have killed him too, but I never got the chance."

"How did you connect the real Ivy to the killing?" Jarrod asked.

"Saw her with the boy after he left the sheriff's office. Ivy took off as soon as they parted company. I couldn't catch up to either one of them on the spot but I found out from the train depot clerk that Ivy was coming out here on the train using the name Ivy Elder, but the sheriff in Topeka didn't care about it, any of it. He had a body and he'd given over the bounty, and everybody was out of his hair. So I came after Ivy myself, and Rafe followed me when he found out about it."

"You killed Ivy Erin," the sheriff said.

McKee nodded. "I did. Rafe didn't know anything about it. I know he'd have stopped me if he could, but I was a day or so ahead of him, and I did the job in that alley before he ever got here. I left her in the alley when I heard you coming, lawyer. I didn't know exactly what to do – thought about running, but then I thought about Amy and I thought I'd try to claim Ivy Erin's body instead. I took too long thinking about it. I should have left town right after I shot her, but I wanted to take that body back to Topeka. I wanted that so bad. Rafe claimed her body for the same reason I did – to take her back to Topeka and get them to understand who they really had buried under the tombstone with Ivy Erin's name on it."

Jarrod looked over at Rafe Samson. The young man had turned his back, staring at the floor. Jarrod believed every word McKee said. But - "Why didn't anyone notice your niece was gone after she was killed?"

"We're nobody much around Topeka," Rafe said. "Don't live in town. Don't even go in all that much except for supplies. Just farmers out in the countryside that nobody has much of anything to do with. Amy meant the world to us, but not much to anybody else, until that Ivy Erin spotted her. Played up to her one day in town, making like she wanted to be friendly."

"The sheriff didn't even know us until this happened, that dammed lazy - ," McKee said. "I don't think he even believed Amy was ever out there with us. That's why we needed Ivy Erin's body – not just to show Amy was dead. To prove she even existed at all to that good for nothing sheriff. I'm the murderer here, Sheriff. Rafe here, he didn't do anything except lie to you about who he was and try to give me time to get away. I did what I did, and I'll always carry it with me. I just had to do it."

Jarrod saw genuine remorse in McKee's eyes – regret over what he'd done, but a sense that he had no choice, that he'd had no power to stop it. "You two need lawyers," Jarrod said. "You can't decide how to plead without a lawyer's help. I can't represent you because I'm a witness in the case, but I'll go out now and get you both some good help, if you want me to."

"We can't afford lawyers," Samson said.

Jarrod shook his head. "Don't worry about it. We have men who will work for free if you can't pay them. But I need to go get them as fast as I can. Do I have your permission?"

Both men in the cells nodded.

Jarrod quickly left.

As he headed for the office of two lawyers he knew could do the job, Jarrod marveled at how fast his sympathies could switch from Ivy Erin to the two men involved in her killing. It wasn't that he felt less sorry for Ivy, even though it was clear now that she was a cold-blooded murderer. To him, she was still that frightened girl who came to his office, too. She was complicated, cheated out of a decent life from the moment she was born, probably incapable of being anything other than a girl who would do whatever it took to stay alive, even if it meant robbing or killing others.

But now he understood why she had been killed in that alley, and his concern was to see that the two men involved in that – men who may not have had much better a life than Ivy had – got good representation in court. Jarrod found himself feeling both anger and sympathy for all of them – Ivy, that innocent girl in Topeka, Samson and especially McKee. Life had been horrid for all of them, and they had fought back in different ways. Ivy and McKee had chosen murderous ways.

XXXXXXX

Two weeks later, Nick Barkley came looking for his older brother after the trial of Rafe Samson and Tom McKee. Jarrod had been a witness in the case and was free to go after he testified, but Nick knew he'd have stayed for the end of it. The trouble was, Nick had just come into town and missed the jury's verdict. He only had time to see that Jarrod was no longer in the courtroom, and no one knew where he'd gone. Jarrod got away right after the jury verdict came in – not guilty on all the charges – lying, murder, obstruction of justice, everything. Samson and McKee left the courthouse and left Stockton, without Ivy Erin's body. It was over.

But Nick knew his brother. It probably wasn't over for Jarrod yet. This was the kind of case his brother would carry with him. Nick checked Jarrod's office and didn't find him there, nor was he in the sheriff's office or the Gold Nugget. Frustrated, Nick was just about to assume Jarrod had gone on home and they just missed each other when he got an idea of one other place he should check.

And there he was, standing in the Presbyterian churchyard with his hat in his hands, staring down at the gravestone that now said "Ivy Erin." Nick hesitated at first, reluctant to interrupt whatever Jarrod was going through, reluctant to intervene in his thoughts. But Jarrod was staying there a very long time. Nick finally came up beside him.

Jarrod gave him a glance but looked back at the grave. "What are you doing in town, Nick?"

"Looking for you," Nick said. "Checked the courthouse and your office and the sheriff's and the Gold Nugget and finally checked here. Ivy Erin is staying here, huh? Not going back to Topeka?"

"The sheriff and I contacted the authorities in Topeka, got everything straightened out about Amy McKee. The right name is on her tombstone, and on Ivy's."

"You've been here a long time."

Jarrod nodded. "Thinking about things. She came to me, and what I saw was a frightened girl, but I didn't understand everything she was frightened about. She might have told me everything if I'd gotten to talk to her in that alley. She might even have been repenting everything she'd done, but only God knows whether that's true or not now. And then those two turned up, claiming to be her uncle and brother, and I was suspicious about their motives from the moment I met each of them.

"Then I found out there was another victim in Topeka, a girl who looked like Ivy, a girl passed off as Ivy for the bounty and to get Ivy free. I worked out some truths, and the uncle of Ivy's victim filled in the rest, and I found myself having more sympathy for him and the brother than I ever thought I could have for a cold-blooded murderer. Yet that's what Tom McKee was – a cold-blooded murderer, like Ivy was. Different reasons for murder, but murder just the same."

"Sympathy for him? What do you mean?" Nick asked.

"I could actually understand how grief and revenge could drive a man to do what he otherwise might not do. It could drive a man to kill another without a second thought – until the job was done. And then – oh, then, the guilt, the reconciling, the facing up to what you've done and what you've become, the trying to find some way to live with it. I'm not sure I agree with a not guilty verdict, but I can feel for Tom McKee. I can understand why he did what he did. I can understand this murderer and why he murdered. And after I said a little prayer here for Ivy, I said a prayer for him, for what he has to carry for the rest of his life. Did Ivy regret what she'd done to Tom McKee's niece? I don't know. I'll never know. But I know Tom McKee regretted what he did to Ivy, and yet he'd do it again. What happened to him could happen to anyone. It could happen to you or me."

"No, Jarrod," Nick said. "Not you. You have too much respect for the law. Don't go worrying it could happen to you. Me, maybe, I'm a hothead, but not you."

Jarrod finally looked up at his brother. His eyes were sad. "It happened to them," he said. "It could happen to anyone."

Jarrod turned then, put his hat back on and walked away.

Nick glanced at the gravestone before walking away, following his brother. Jarrod's words had sent a chill through him, but despite his flip comment about himself he knew that he could never become lewd enough or greedy enough or embittered enough over anyone or anything to commit a cold-blooded murder. Neither could Jarrod. That's not who they were, either of them.

"Ah, Jarrod," Nick muttered to himself, "sometimes you think too much."

The End


End file.
